Cassiopeia
by Le Creationist
Summary: (AU: Infused with generous amounts of Harry Potter) Edith/Anthony. Lady Edith Crawley spends most of her childhood away at boarding school in Scotland. She returns to Downton, only to find herself confronted with an existential crisis brought on by her difficult relationship with her family and the confusion of an unintended attachment to a certain gentleman.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hello to the Andith shippers and the general Downton community! I'm utterly in love with Andith as many of you are, and I'm so absolutely inspired by all of the fics in the fandom. I confess I've been a longtime lurker and never thought I'd write anything for this fandom. Suddenly, after watching and rewatching all of their beautiful, painful moments together on the show I was gripped by a truly insistent plot bunny and voila. This happened.**

**This story is A/U right off the bat, and I ask you to bear with me as I have no beta/britpicker, so all mistakes and inaccuracies are my own. I borrow quite a lot from the Harry Potter world and merge it with Downton, basic premise is Edith has something that _really_ sets her apart from her sisters besides her general personality.**

**Please let me know what you think. :)**

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**PROLOGUE**

_1901_

Lady Edith Crawley would never forget the precise moment when she realised she was _different._ As a young girl, she was pensive and observant as her sisters were charming and outspoken—the former characteristics compelled her to reach for books and shut out the world until she absolutely had to come back to it. Edith obeyed her mama and her governesses as best as she could. What little girl did not yearn for the utter approval of her elegant mama? Yet from childhood, Edith knew perhaps subconsciously that there was something about herself that precluded her from that sort of unconditional affection. This was not to say that she'd suffered a miserable childhood, her papa and mama indulged her as much as other parents of that time did though even more so for Mary and Sybil.

Edith had been in the library, scouring the shelves for a book she knew was hiding somewhere on the upper levels as Mrs. Hughes had taken to occasionally reading to the young girl. Edith knew the housekeeper repositioned the book in its proper place at least an arm's length above where Edith's head came to on the shelf. She stood on a chair she'd dragged up so she could reach for the slim volume, only to discover that it was still far away from her fingertips. Biting her lip determinedly, she stretched just a little further but to no avail—until the book inexplicably _flew_ into her hand. At nine years of age, she put it up to her imagination that such a curious thing should occur.

That same year, Edith experienced increasingly similar incidents that simultaneously frightened and thrilled her. In her favorite spot in the grassy country fields just beyond the confines of her ancestral home, she somehow was able to summon little birds to her without consciously trying. Flowers bloomed in her hand, but faster than any normal growth. Because she spent most of her time alone, Sybil and Mary got on far better together than if Edith also accompanied them, Edith was unaware that these behaviors would be alarming to anyone else.

One day during a session with Mrs. Hughes in the library, Edith begged her for one more story from a hefty collection of fairy tales. The housekeeper's soothing voice was such a comfort to little Edith, and in those peaceful moments, she likened Mrs. Hughes to something of a fairy godmother from the very tales she wove. At Edith's polite but insistent pleading, the housekeeper agreed with a fond smile to read one final story for the afternoon.

A split second of carelessness that was a result of particularly industrious work in the kitchens that morning led Mrs. Hughes to drop the heavy volume with a soft cry. Edith's eyes snapped to the book and instinctively she willed it _not to hit Mrs. Hughes's foot._ The book froze in midair, hovering just above the housekeeper's knees.

The expression of utter astonishment on Mrs. Hughes' face would be forever imprinted in Edith's memory. When she was older, Edith would reflect that Mrs. Hughes probably said something to her mama in reference to that moment. For on her eleventh birthday, Edith overheard her mama and papa having a distinctly earnest conversation that became rather like an argument. Words like _disappointment _and _unnatural_ filtered through the slightly open door. The undertone of her parents' fear pierced little Edith's heart and caused her to wonder what was truly wrong with her. Those moments in the library, in the meadows outside Downton, with Mrs. Hughes that day—there must be something terribly wrong with her!

She lived in perpetual fear that she'd be sent away far from the only family she'd ever had. When her mama and papa sat her down in the very library where all those things occurred, she couldn't say she was very shocked.

They wanted to send her to school in Scotland, to a school where she'd be educated with similar girls—and even boys—to help her with her 'abilities' or that was how her parents phrased it anyway.

Edith was equally confused and frightened. She was still convinced something was wrong with her, or her parents wouldn't be sending her to live away in a place where she had only one relation with whom she wasn't too familiar. She then asked why Mary and Sybil were not to join her. According to Mama, the school only admitted students with the requisite aptitude for their curriculum. She hardly knew what that meant, other than that she would only return home to Downton for holidays and the summer season.

And so from ages eleven to twenty one, Lady Edith Crawley set off to discover that not only was she a daughter of old English aristocracy but also the only member of her immediate family who was in fact, _a witch._


	2. Chapter 1

**Thank you all for the encouraging words! I hope you enjoy. :)**

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**CHAPTER ONE**

_May 1914_

As a young woman, Edith was still prone to bouts of solemn pensiveness that stemmed from her inability to relate to her family. She was not particularly surprised that she found it so difficult to carry conversations even with amiable Sybil. When her sisters were learning fine arts, Edith had been learning magical arts and she dedicated every fibre of her being to her studies. She was determined to hone her craft to be the absolute best. Her classmates at school, at Hogwarts, were equally driven and the competitive environment ensured that each graduating class was even more superb than the last.

Edith finished with highest marks in Charms and Transfiguration at the age of nineteen. She was finished with her standard coursework at eighteen but chose to stay another two years for an apprenticeship with a leading Transfiguration researcher. She was one out of four students chosen from her cohort to enter Animagus training.

While her selection was a highly lauded achievement for one so young, it also served to test Edith's mettle. Edith toiled away for hours on learning every facet of the available literature, every day for the first year of her programme. She was to attempt the actual transformation in the second year—however, her impatience and overconfidence got the best of her. She was forcing every cell in her body to change in structure to form an entirely new being without knowing what her final form would be. That was the danger of becoming an Animagus. The odds of a successful transformation were not in her favor.

Even her mentor cautioned her to pace herself or risk depleting her energy. Edith's classroom training ended in the late afternoon but there were evenings when she cleared her bedroom of all furniture and continued to attempt the transformation. Alone without any observers there in case something went wrong. One winter morning, she woke up from an exhausted sleep and tried to cast a simple warming charm, only to suffer the most excruciating pain, almost like an entity trying to claw its way out of her ribcage. The strain had run its course.

The Healer who diagnosed her condition called it _magical reserve depletion_, perhaps the most clinical terms Edith ever heard as far as magical injuries went. She remembered the panic she felt. The more the days that passed, the less she could sense that mysterious energy that used to set her fingertips tingling. That source of latent power had been her constant companion from birth. To have it torn from her so suddenly rendered her almost catatonic.

She was absolutely distraught. She failed her apprenticeship, withdrew from the programme and returned home to Downton Abbey. The Healers at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries told her the only remedy was rest and restraint from the most taxing spells. Even if she complied thoroughly, there was no absolute guarantee that her magic would return at the same level of ability. She'd depleted her reserves of energy to the point where she could barely stand to unlock a door with _alohomora._

Upon returning home to her family in Downton, Edith struggled to find any sort of connection with them at all. Her abilities were no secret to her immediate family or the core members of the staff like Carson, Mrs. Hughes and Anna. Yet Edith conscientiously tried not to employ any magic while they were around. She trusted very few at Downton with the truth of her identity. The first time she'd conjured a tea set out of thin air, her mama nearly had a heart attack. Edith sadly wondered what reactions she might garner if she changed a sofa into a tiger or turned papa's hair a ghastly shade of blue. Anyway, those things were beyond her now.

Mary made no secret of her disapproval of Edith's "lifestyle" no matter how Edith might try to convince her that giving up magic completely was akin to giving up air. And that summed up the way she lived these days. Directionless. Somber. Aching with the knowledge that had she been patient with herself, she could have had her pick of the top opportunities in the magical community in London. She very nearly did send her application to some research positions with the Ministry of Magic and other private firms. After all, her writing skills were strong and she still had a mind full of the theory. Then Edith gave it all up, knowing that no matter how jolly she looked on parchment, she couldn't possibly expect to be hired in her current state.

Mama was convinced that Edith should marry and proceed with life as a muggle debutante would. To her mother, there was no use in waiting around. Edith vehemently protested and for good reason. She realised her lifespan would already extend up to two times that of any possible muggle husband. She had so much more time than her sisters to find a life partner and when she did, she intended to give her heart fully. A hundred years with someone had to be based on a solid foundation of mutual care and respect.

In any case, Edith's opinion was decidedly opposed to mama's plan and for about a month, the two Crawley women constantly argued over the matter. Edith upheld the notion of genuine love over social position but did not draw more attention to the fact that she would likely outlive a muggle husband. After a very heated and final discussion, Cora Crawley agreed to give Edith a grace period of one year before she began to actively search for suitors for her.

In the meantime, Edith knew she had to make a crucial decision. Did she want to live as a muggle of her social position was meant to? She cringed at the thought of 'rejoining' their set. To the outside world and broader muggle society, she was rumoured to be something of a shut-in, a dull, plain girl with no prospects. All those years of her life, all the tuition that went toward her education…undone by her stubbornness and overwhelming need to prove herself.

If she healed properly, she could potentially still live as a witch. She could live as freely as she wanted, the rules of propriety in the wizarding world were not as rigid as those of the muggle world. People married who they loved without worry for social standing. Ladies could have well-paying, respectable professions—in fact, that was a norm. She fully intended to be one of those ladies, regardless of which world she chose to establish herself in.

What her parents wanted was obvious enough. To them, magic was yanking white rabbits out of top hats, charlatans on the street with promises to amaze, who took decent people's money like common thieves. She supposed the images inspired by the very word 'witch' in their minds were of ugly old hags and the archaic muggle methods of persecuting them for heresy.

Sybil, to her credit, was the most accepting. The youngest Crawley daughter was inherently openminded, which was why, a few months after she'd began to recuperate, Edith allowed her sister to watch her attempt a spell.

"This charm is part of a fourth year course," She clarified, somewhat embarrassed for her own sake that she felt the need to justify what was likely to be a horrible try. They were sitting on the sofa in Sybil's room and Edith tossed a pillow to the other side of the room. She gripped her wand and pointed, "_Accio _Sybil's pillow!"

The object in question lifted off the floor and floated toward them, at a much slower pace than a summoning charm normally worked. Edith was gratified that she hadn't hurt herself and that she was able to make it move at all. The pillow landed on the sofa between them with a soft thump.

"You are wonderfully talented, my sister!" The young brunette cried as she grasped Edith's free hand.

"Hard work pays off. There's so much more I wish I could show you and explain to you." Edith bit back the words of self-reproach that had formed in her head before she could give them voice.

"Are there ways to use…magic," The younger Crawley sister inquired, "to make the every-day aspects of our lives easier?"

Edith nodded, smiling at her genuine curiosity. "Yes, though magical exposure is not really the done thing outside of the wizarding world. How should one explain why they can live alone in a well-maintained, vast estate without a single staff member? They could only carry on for so long before people in the village noticed."

"I'm sure Carson and Mrs. Hughes would adore you if you showed them you could clean entire rooms and arrange dinners with just a single wave of that," Sybil motioned to Edith's wand.

"Would that I could. In any case, if I were to be in charge of the maintenance of the estate it would be quite a coup, wouldn't it. All those jobs gone just like that and for seemingly no explanation." Edith mused.

"How terrible it is to imagine this big old house empty."

"I expect Mama and Papa will say that when we leave the nest."

"Do you think you'll stay with us for very long? It's so lovely to have you back, Edie. Mary gets more cynical the more suitors Mama tells her to 'look after.'"

"I don't know. I'm happy that you welcome me but…" Edith's brows drew together in a frown as all of her crushed dreams seemed to weigh on her at once. "I wanted to work in Transfiguration research—that was my specialty at school. I thought I would live in London but until I heal, I can't be certain."

Sybil gazed at her sister with genuine sympathy. The pain was evident on Edith's face at the loss she experienced. She couldn't truly know what it was like—the rush of pure, unmitigated power that was almost otherworldly. The honing of that power and ability to wield it better than any physical weapon became an integral part of Edith Crawley that she hardly knew who she was now that she was without it.

Just then, Edith noticed the changing light as the room softened into a dusky glow.

Apparently along the same line of thought, Sybil said, "We have to prepare soon for dinner. You know Mama invited, among the others, another potential suitor for Mary."

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. "What dinner doesn't include a potential suitor for Mary."

With characteristic precision, Edith tucked her wand into the long sleeve of her blouse. The emotional anguish receded into the corner of her mind where she imagined keeping it locked safely away. She wanted to be as happy as possible while at home at Downton. Short summer holidays and the occasional long weekend had not afforded her much time to really be with her family.

Sybil continued, "He's papa's old friend from Locksley, though I imagine you don't remember him. Did you ever meet Sir Anthony Strallan?"

Edith frowned slightly while contemplating the name. "I don't recall…"

"Lady Strallan passed away in childbirth, or so we've heard. Mama seems to think that he'll want to remarry."

"I can only hope that Mary will show him a modicum of kindness. It can't be easy to contemplate remarrying after such a tragedy."

"Well, Papa and Mama think very highly of him. A title, money and an estate not too far from home. Mary will be settled quite well if it all works out!"

It wasn't too much of a stretch to imagine beautiful Mary dispassionately married to a man for his material wealth and social status. She'd bear him beautiful children, no doubt, and perhaps from that she might derive real happiness. Grandchildren for mama and papa—nieces and nephews for the lonely spinster aunt.

"I wouldn't settle for any of that you know. Of the many things I'm grateful for, I think my freedom from all those worries is the most valuable." At Sybil's raised brow, she hurried to elaborate. "Oh I have utter faith that _you'll_ pursue love wholeheartedly when you find it. You're so very brave after all. I, on the other hand, am well aware of my perceived shortcomings. I'm a transplant from another place. I wouldn't know the first thing about finding love in a marriage let alone all of the criteria set by the norms of muggle society."

Sybil reclined on the sofa and crossed her arms, fixing her sister with a sincere expression that came along with youth and an endearing naiveté. "I know you'll get better Edie. And then everything will be right as rain again."

"I do hope so. The rest of my life depends on whether or not I _can."_

Neither young woman spoke through the tension that arose. Edith had no words to explain the grief that haunted her because of her own hubris. She supposed there was beauty even in that kind of arrogance. The loss of most of her ability sometimes made her wonder if it was all a dream. Years of memories tied together by otherwise insignificant objects: brooms, battered tomes full of incantations written in dead languages, and little sticks of wood that meant nothing. _Nothing._ The very thought brought tears to her eyes and left her throat felt thick with emotion.

"I really should leave you be. I haven't a clue as to what I'll wear. We've got to impress our future brother-in-law after all." She joked with false bravado, biting the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. Sybil saw them nonetheless, but only watched as her older sister got up from the sofa and made her way out of the room, the pillow she summoned magically was left where she'd been sitting.


	3. Chapter 2

**I thought it would be interesting to approach E/A differently and explore what it might be like if Edith had a 'handicap' instead. She grew up mostly at Hogwarts and as a result is a bit more confident, but that's not to say she doesn't have the same fundamental self-esteem issues. They're more latent in this universe, and as a witch she's allowed a lot more liberty than say, Mary and Sybil, in a lot of ways.**

**Thanks again so much for the kind reviews and encouraging words! :) **

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**CHAPTER TWO**

Edith traced her steps back to her room, wondering at how much closer she was to Sybil and if she'd ever bridge the gap between herself and her insufferable eldest sister. Time and distance had not led to any sort of improvement in their relationship despite what Edith had done to help Mary in her…moment of distress.

Shuddering as she closed her bedroom door behind her, she couldn't help but recall being woken in the middle of the night by a panic-stricken Mary. With a tremor in her voice, she begged Edith to bring the deceased man to life, insisting that she do something about it no matter how many times Edith told her that no magic but the absolute darkest could resurrect a human life.

"_I don't care what, just bloody well do something!"_ The words echoed in Edith's memory.

And she did what she could. Because of the sheer terror in her Mama's and sister's expressions, Edith cast a levitating spell to move Kemal Pamuk back to his room in the bachelors' corridor, with Mary and Mama keeping watch at her side. Edith remembered how easy it was, maneuvering the body around the corner and down the hall. She wondered what they would have done if she'd already robbed herself of the strength to levitate a fully-grown man all the way to the bachelor's corridor.

To this day, instead of gratitude, Mary had treated her with fearful disdain. Edith had been indifferent to it, mostly, as she'd had the fortune of spending the rest of the year away.

As she began her toilette, she brushed away those bitter thoughts, knowing that they were likely to darken her mood throughout dinner and she certainly didn't want to add to the impression that she was the dull shut-in she was rumoured to be.

Her wardrobe as a young witch was quite different than what she'd wear as an earl's daughter so a few alteration charms and additions to her dresses rendered them acceptable if not at least a little fashionable. For this dinner, Edith chose a mauve frock with delicate beading along the empire waist and a skirt that floated gently as she moved. Her hair was easy to arrange into neat curls that would stay in place all evening. For jewelry, she donned a simple pendant on a thin gold chain about her neck. She finished her outfit with elbow length white satin gloves, overall pleased at how quickly she was able to make herself presentable.

She ventured to her mama's room to ask if she'd do, only to find it empty. She supposed she wasn't surprised, since mama's dinners tended to constitute an all-out effort on her part. Tonight was no exception especially when Mary was being cajoled to entertain a suitor their parents went out of their way to invite.

Wandering through the empty halls of Downton reminded her of Ravenclaw Tower at Hogwarts and she was engulfed by the same profound nostalgia that she fought to repress. She missed the rooms she'd decorated herself when she was an apprentice and the most important thing in her life was her magic alone. Yes, she'd had friends at school but they were all so engrossed in their specialties that they had little time outside of their course work to socialise. She missed the scent of fresh parchment that surrounded her in her daily life as a scholar and the joy of discovering what she could accomplish on her own merit. The feel of her father's library was nowhere near the same as the enormous one at Hogwarts, but she supposed that was only to be expected.

Before long, she'd found that she'd reached the top of the main staircase and that some of the dinner guests were arriving. She lingered in the shadows for a moment, surveying the scene. Papa was dressed in white tie, looking very much the same as he had all her life, save for a significant amount of grey appearing in his wavy hair. Mama stood beside him of course, dressed in a frock of pale blush-coloured chiffon that draped so pleasingly. They were speaking to an exceptionally tall man of roughly Papa's age, dressed also in immaculate white tie. Their voices carried up toward her and she observed them with interest.

"I do hope my early arrival hasn't disrupted the preparations too much, Lord Grantham." The unknown gentleman's pleasant tones reached her ears as she neared the bannister.

"Not at all, it's so good that you could join us tonight Sir Anthony. It's been such a long time—what, at least a year!" Robert remarked in that voice he reserved for old friends.

The man smiled politely and tilted his head downward in concession. His hands were clasped primly behind his coat tails, conveying the slightest hint of nervous energy. Mama looked a tad chagrined even from the great distance that Edith was watching. She knew Mama must be thinking of how indelicate that sounded considering the grief the man must still surely feel for his deceased wife. So this was the man that Mama wanted Mary to consider. Edith could foresee how this was probably going to play out, notwithstanding her scorn for the practice of Divination. She felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He appeared to be of a perfectly amiable sort. Just the sort of temperament that would set Mary on edge.

"Thank you both for hosting this dinner tonight, I'm sure it's all as excellent as I remember."

Cora smiled, pleased by Sir Anthony's subtle praise, and probably anxious to introduce him to Mary who was conspicuously absent.

Edith sighed, thinking she should probably get her introduction over with.

"Good evening, Mama, Papa." She greeted them upon reaching the bottom of the staircase.

The Countess of Grantham looked at her middle daughter and kissed her cheek. Lord Grantham followed up with a kiss to Edith's cheek and then she turned to face the blonde gentleman with a small but friendly smile. He said, "This is Sir Anthony Strallan. Sir Anthony, my middle daughter Lady Edith."

"I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." Edith offered her hand to him, which he accepted in a courteous handshake. He appeared so very tall now that Edith was on level ground with him and his eyes were an arresting shade of blue. His thin lips spread in a friendly smile that reached those wonderfully blue eyes.

"Likewise, Lady Edith."

"Edith's just returned to us from Scotland." Cora added, in anticipation of any remarks on how long Edith had been away.

"Scotland?" The gentleman's eyebrows were raised in surprise.

"Yes, she was with my cousin's family at Duneagle." Robert interjected with finality, clearly unwilling to continue any more into Edith's whereabouts for the majority of the past decade. He gave Cora an indecipherable look. Edith didn't let her irritation show, or at least, she hoped she didn't. However, she saw the slight confusion in Sir Anthony's face.

Her father's dismissal of nearly her entire life still stung. That she couldn't deny, no matter how irrational it was. Of course the details of her life could not be aired out to just anyone but the fact that her father couldn't be bothered to trust her to provide some suitable backstory at all was an insult to her intelligence. Before she could filter her words, Edith found herself speaking up rather rebelliously.

"If you'll come through to the drawing room, Sir Anthony, we could wait there until dinner is ready."

Lord and Lady Grantham were slightly taken aback but had no objection. Edith figured Mama thought her harmless enough to leave her with Mary's potential suitor. If anything, her mama probably thought it an advantage to have her plain daughter prime the gentleman for the splendor that was Mary Crawley, she thought sarcastically. She suddenly wondered if the man before her was aware that he was essentially being dangled in front of the eldest Crawley daughter or if he was independently and actively seeking a second wife. Neither scenario was pleasant in Edith's opinion. She would just have to surpass all of their admittedly low expectations and she'd be pleased enough for her own sake and slightly bruised ego.

"Of course, Lady Edith. Please, if I am keeping you from anything else you must do, you mustn't feel obligated to entertain me."

Before he or her parents could say anything more, Edith disagreed with a slight laugh and motioned for him to walk with her. Just then, Carson announced the arrival of more guests and diverted her parents' attention.

He modified his pace to match hers, she noticed.

"It must be nice to be home, wouldn't you agree Lady Edith?"

"Quite nice, yes."

They rounded a corner and stepped through the open drawing room doors, Sir Anthony pausing to allow her to precede him inside. The room was otherwise empty, and Edith moved to sit on one of the sofas. She invited him to sit as well, which he did, albeit with a little of his earlier nervousness reappearing.

When they were both settled, Edith laughed with some irony infused into the sound. Sir Anthony appeared puzzled and she immediately decided that she would explain her rather odd behaviour. "I apologise Sir Anthony, since I've returned to live here at Downton, my parents seem rather keen to dismiss any evidence or memory of the years I spent at school."

"I'm not sure I agree with your assessment. They must be proud of such aspiration—surely they are, if they sent you there in the first place?"

She saw the clumsiness of her admission and winced inwardly. Perhaps Papa had good reason to doubt her intelligence. She could hardly correct Sir Anthony over why her parents were compelled to send her away at all.

"I do hope you're right. Well, I suppose it will just take some time to adjust to life here at Downton."

"What did you study, Lady Edith?"

"Oh, a bit of everything really." She said vaguely.

"I see… Splendid," He said.

Edith began to regret her boldness in volunteering to entertain this man until dinner was to be served. They had a good fifteen minutes to pass and the silence of the drawing room seemed exaggerated between them. Where on earth was Mary? Surely Mama hunted her down and given her the marching orders by now? A few other dinner guests milled into the room that was large enough for all to hold their own conversations without rudely interrupting.

Thankfully, Sir Anthony spoke up as if the silence between them was not turning a tad strained.

"I myself am happy to be home as I've been away for the better part of three weeks. Travelling always makes it easier to appreciate what we have here in this county."

"Oh? Were you very far away?"

"I'd been sent to Austria, for diplomatic purposes—that sort of thing."

The way he trailed off hinted that he was used to conversation partners with rather limited attention spans. She found she wanted to correct that rather sad mannerism at once.

"How fascinating. I gather it's quite a time to be there to observe the rising tides of nationalism. Rather worrying, I should imagine. Were you in Vienna?"

The man drew in a great breath as his eyes widened slightly. She saw how he tried to contain himself in spite of it, even as he spoke.

"Yes, I was and that is exactly right—the distributional effects of industrialization are really beginning to show now. In Vienna, for instance, the rise of leftist politicians has certainly stirred up the scene. The culmination of twenty or so years of modernization, you know."

His eloquence was tempered by caution, as if he thought he'd bore her.

"That's exactly what unsettles many people here, to be honest. Change is a good thing most of the time, unless people feels as though the rug's been pulled from underneath them." Edith's words were laced with hidden meaning.

"A very apt way of putting it, Lady Edith. At Locksley and a few of the surrounding farms, I've been working with the farmers to slowly mechanize the farming equipment—" The gentleman cut himself short suddenly, as if he realised a young lady couldn't possibly want to hear about farming equipment of all things.

"Please, Sir Anthony, continue. What is important to estates like ours is likely important in the parts of the continent that haven't fully experienced industrialization in broad strokes yet."

He appeared so taken with her earnest command that he did exactly what she told him. "I wholly agree. I was only going to say that the transition from an agrarian society toward an industrial one won't be a smooth one but if we all do our part to implement little changes here and there, we could make huge leaps in efficiency."

"But to realise all the potential benefits of change, it is necessary to give some other things up. To sacrifice some immediate things, in this case the familiarity of old ways, in order to capture larger profits on the market with the higher volume of crops produced." She continued along his line of logic.

She'd leaned closer without even noticing, and realised that he did as well. She was only made conscious of it when she saw their knees were almost touching. She fiddled with the fabric of her skirt and lowered her eyes, suddenly aware that it was highly possible the man thought she was a bit too well-informed for him to have impressed her. Some men disliked when a woman was on par with them when it came to discussing issues. Sir Anthony didn't seem like he'd be one of them but he was still very much a stranger to her.

"I hope you won't mind me saying so, but I think you are a singular young woman." The gentleman admitted with shyness that was immensely endearing in a man of his station. With just one sentence, he undid everything she'd just been thinking of. She grinned but then chastised herself. She was not meant to…to steal away Mary's suitor, or she'd risk her Mama's outright disapproval. To slowly disengage, she corrected her posture and sat back ever so slightly. He seemed to mirror her actions, whether it was done consciously or not, she did not know.

"Likewise, I find you a singular sort of gentleman." Edith said good-naturedly. She watched him react to her words, fascinated by the color that warmed his cheeks. There was something to be said for the novelty of causing a gentleman to blush.

She stood from the sofa with true reluctance but motioned for him to stay put.

"If you'll excuse me Sir Anthony, I'll just see to the progress in the dining room. Please feel free to make yourself at home here."

With that, she glided out of the room feeling several things at once— mostly confident that she'd made a good impression. Edith couldn't help but feel an undeniable desire to continue speaking with someone who really listened and was willing to engage in a conversation about things other than the latest gossip among their society. Sir Anthony was then greeted by Lord and Lady Jervis, though he was noticeably flustered from their brief interaction.

The rest of the dinner was sure to be filled with trite small talk since she definitely was not seated beside Sir Anthony Strallan. She hoped she didn't come across as naïve or stupidly enthusiastic. His compliment sounded truly sincere.


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

Mary wore crimson, a color that Edith subconsciously associated her with ever since the notorious incident with Mr. Pamuk. She sat next to Cousin Matthew, whom Edith thought was a very decent fellow and might have fancied if she'd been a more sheltered girl. When she'd toured him about the county however, she found his perpetual fixation on her elder sister quite exasperating. She watched Mary make faces at Matthew every time she was shielded from Sir Anthony's gaze by the footmen serving the different courses.

When Sir Anthony brought up the very topic of agricultural mechanisation, Edith fought to keep the impending dismay from showing. She knew exactly how Mary would react and was not disappointed when she said with a joviality that was much too forced, "Yes, Sir Anthony, I'm sure I do!"

The older man smiled and took a sip of water. Edith couldn't help thinking that perhaps he might be so prone to nervousness in social settings that he tended to stick to a limited number of topics whether or not the other party might find them interesting. If she'd spent her childhood at Downton as she would have in another life, she was quite sure she'd be afflicted with the same type of anxiety. As it was, hers stemmed from the lack of knowledge of every aspect of the muggle world.

And then Mary said to Matthew under her breath, "Are we ever going to be allowed to turn?"

Mary carried on chatting with Matthew without regard to the man she was supposed to be charming for mama's sake. Edith gracefully maneuvered her way out of conversation with the gentleman to her left and took a chance, unable to bear the effect of Mary's indifference on the man across the table.

"Sir Anthony," She began boldly. She felt her mother's eyes on her as she spoke as well as Mary's. The man in question looked at her too, seemingly surprised that she'd break dinner etiquette to speak to him. "It must be so hard, to meet the challenge of the future but to still be fair to your employees."

"That is the point precisely. We can't find progress but we must find ways to soften the blow." He was smiling at her again. Her pulse quickened. Was…was that her magic, trembling somewhere within her?

Her heart raced as she fumbled for more to say. Given all this scrutiny upon her, she wasn't as elegant she would have liked to have been. She brought up the first thing that popped into her head. "I should love to see one of the new harvesters, if you would ever let me. We don't have one here."

"I shall be delighted." He replied with a smile.

And that was that. Edith knew she'd irked Mary and mama. Somehow the pleasure of this gentleman's acknowledgement far outweighed their feeble attempts to chastise her with looks of disapproval. She'd made Sir Anthony feel valued, for however much those few seconds were worth, which was more effort than anyone around here had made for Edith herself since she'd returned to Downton. Maybe one day they'd change by observing her example though she highly doubted such a thing would happen.

* * *

The rest of dinner was very commonplace, probably a little tedious even, at least until dessert was served. Apple charlotte was the treat of the evening, so obviously pandering to the taste of Sir Anthony in hopes of impressing him. By now, Mary was so completely ignoring him that mama's scheme seemed doomed to failure. Not that it was likely to succeed in the first place. Even so, Mary's wary gaze landed on Edith from time to time. Edith thought it ridiculous for her sister to feel remotely threatened by her innocuous speech earlier. The slightest amount of attention Edith commanded for just a few moments was tantamount to a direct challenge. Mary clearly didn't appreciate Sir Anthony's conversation. That she'd look ready to take up arms was clear evidence that when the head of the man of the hour was turned by none other than Edith Crawley, Mary would not rest until this anomaly was corrected.

Then the man who inspired this silent war between sisters surprised everyone with an outcry so at odds with his formerly placid demeanor.

"_Good god!"_ Sir Anthony nearly shouted into his napkin.

It seemed Mrs. Patmore might have confused the sugar and salt, for the pudding was positively drenched with salt. Edith watched the poor man cough into his napkin.

Mama had the pudding taken away at once. Something else more suitable was to follow, presumably to compensate for the utter failure to impress Mary's suitor with his favorite dessert. Edith thought she could easily banish the excessive salt but then realized she'd risk collapsing in front of everyone. Non-verbal spells were significantly more taxing.

"You must think it's terribly disorganized," she said regretfully, fully aware that Mary was giggling into her napkin. Even Matthew looked like he wanted to laugh if only because Mary's mirth was apparently contagious.

"Not at all. These things do happen," Sir Anthony said graciously before washing down the disturbing taste with water. The eldest Crawley daughter's face looked pinched for a second, betraying her distaste for the man, before she noticed Edith watching her reaction. Then her face relaxed into glowing politeness once more.

Edith decided she couldn't stand another moment listening to Mary's mockery of Sir Anthony. After dinner, she slipped away from the ladies in the drawing room and went outside into the late spring evening. The air soothed her frayed nerves. She strolled along the darkened terrace, pondering the strength of her interest in Sir Anthony. The truth was they'd barely met and spent ten minutes in real conversation.

She thought perhaps she truly must be deprived of stimulating conversation recently. She found it jarring to be limited to muggle current affairs and within that, confined to categories deemed only suitable for ladies. Sir Anthony didn't treat her as though she wouldn't understand what he was talking about. And she wanted to believe in the delighted look of surprise on his face when she revealed her interest in agricultural mechanisation. He just didn't know that her interest stemmed from a magical perspective. Food production in the wizarding world was vastly different after all and did not require such an elaborate process to get the food from farm to table.

If she could, Edith would have sent a Confundus charm in Mary's direction for the pleasure of watching her hem and haw while addressing Matthew. She knew it was juvenile but the image alone proved satisfying enough. She found that she regretted not doing so when she was younger, even if it would have qualified as underage magic in the presence of a muggle.

The sky was dotted liberally with stars—a sight that never failed to soothe her. They reminded her of the relative insignificance of human kind in the grand picture. Her troubles were nothing beneath the sweeping expanse of the heavens. There was a light breeze that picked up and ruffled her curls a bit. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply.

When she opened them again, she noticed movement in the periphery of her vision and her first instinct was to draw her wand.

"I'd wondered where you'd gone." The polite tones of Sir Anthony floated on the wind toward her, eliciting a helpless smile from her. Now that he was standing, she remembered how tall he was and couldn't help but think him very dashing in white tie. She could easily change the context in her head of his approach—she imagined that he sought her out for slightly more risqué reason than to get fresh air. She realised belatedly that it was her turn to speak or risk seeming daft.

"The fresh air is lovely after dinner, don't you agree?"

"Yes." He stated simply. His loping, graceful steps brought him to stand beside her. He looked her over as if he couldn't help himself. "Lovely." Despite herself, she blushed at the possible double meaning of the word. She also reprimanded herself for thinking that and appealing to her own vanity.

"I apologise for my sister. She is rather easily amused and finds fault in almost everything."

Sir Anthony shook his head. "I do tend to prattle on."

Her heart lurched at the slightly dejected look on his face, which was why she told him, "Feel free to prattle as much as you like, with me."

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. It seemed she was quickly familiarising herself with his expressions.

"Don't tell me, you find me an utterly strange woman now. Care to retract your earlier comment?" He drew breath to speak but she cut him off laughingly, "Come, let's stroll down to the gardens. I wager they're just as lovely right now as they are during the day."

Even she shocked herself with her own daring. She wasn't usually keen to play the coquette but something about this man's benign manner made her long to shock and tease.

"Are you quite sure, Lady Edith?"

She'd already begun walking when she registered his reluctance. Turning back so that he could see her profile in the moonlight, Edith couldn't help but smile widely. In for a penny, in for a pound, she supposed.

"Sir Anthony, I believe you came outside for a reason and if you decline a walk with me, I'll simply go anyway. Though I firmly believe we shall both enjoy it. Now either come with me or go back inside where Papa will undoubtedly regale you with stories of the 'good old days.'"

When he still seemed hesitant, Edith sighed in gracious concession. "Or, rejoin the dinner party and socialise with Mary as I'm sure you know you're meant to."

He looked confounded himself at that though Edith hadn't so much as flicked her wrist at him. She shrugged and turned back toward the gravel path, beginning to move away. The disappointment was undeniable. Maybe she'd pushed a bit too much.

Not three full seconds later, she heard hasty footsteps behind her. Sir Anthony was at her side.

"My apologies. Truth be told… I'd much rather –ah—accompany you than return to the house." His reward for his frankness was a glowing smile which in turn caused him to return it.

"That's more like it." Edith said, a little teasingly.

The gentleman laughed—a soft chuckle that warmed her. She liked the idea that she could make him truly laugh.

"I don't mind if you had an ulterior motive. Though you hardly need an excuse if you simply want to talk to me. I meant what I said about the new harvester, you know."

"And I can certainly show you how it operates in Locksley's orchards. Now, from whence does this interest in farming equipment come, Lady Edith?" He inquired, still baffled as to how such an interest would develop.

"I taught myself how to drive a tractor when I was younger and much bolder." At that he huffed in amusement at her acting as if she were not still quite daring now, "There was an old rusty one kept in the sheds at school and my friends and I took turns driving it."

It wasn't quite the whole truth—she omitted the part about tractor-driving being a required component of muggle studies class.

"What other scandalous stories lurk behind those dark eyes, I wonder." The eyes in question met his and widened imperceptibly at the hint of reciprocal friendly teasing. He was almost a completely different person out here.

"For me to know…" Edith said slyly.

She walked at a safe enough distance away from him. The temptation to insinuate herself closer was like a physical pull that Edith never experienced with any boy before. Another sidelong glance at him reminded her that he was definitely no boy. The knowledge that she drew this man to her without having to put on airs made her smug with satisfaction. She thought back to their conversation before dinner started.

"Tell me more about your travels, Sir Anthony. Were you able to enjoy any of Vienna's cultural offerings? When you were not at work of course…" Edith kept her tone light, desiring to hear his experiences abroad.

They fell into step together quite easily as they had when she led him into the drawing room at the start of the evening. His hands were once more clasped behind his back and his head inclined as if in serious thought. She felt very aware of her own diminutive stature next to him.

Crickets chirped softly as they walked, providing a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

"I do enjoy music. I managed to fit in a few concerts as a vehicle for meeting the right officials so I'm afraid they were rather like business outings. Do you appreciate music, Lady Edith?"

"Yes, I have a fondness for Debussy. The continual expansion and redefinition of chromaticism and all that—I do appreciate a wide variety. Mostly I just enjoy listening others play these days."

They were far enough away from the house where they both felt comfortable, totally immersed in the beauty of the calm spring night. The gravel path stretched before them and beyond it were beds of white hydrangea that appeared to glow ethereally beneath the moonlight. _This_ was happiness. It was tentative and atemporal. Edith had male friends, growing up, some of whom could have become something more. She was never tempted by any of them enough to even consider sacrificing her studies for their constant company. She recognized the difference between that and what she felt now. She could imagine the progression of it, seemingly all in an instant.

"Did you used to play the piano?" Sir Anthony asked.

"I did, before my studies consumed most of my time." She looked up at the night sky, marveling at the brilliance of the stars above them now that they were away from the lights of the house. "Aren't they just _gorgeous?" _

"I beg your pardon?" Sir Anthony followed her gaze upward.

"Look, just there—" She pointed with her right hand and placed her left hand on his arm. They slowed their leisurely pace and came to a total stop. "Can you see her? Just there. That's Cassiopeia. I could never identify her on my exams. Now I can find her at the drop of a hat…" Images of the sky from atop the Astronomy Tower danced through her head.

They stared in silent appreciation, her hand still resting lightly on his arm where she'd placed it to get his attention.

"It seems you're an astronomer as well. What a wide variety of subjects you must've read at school," He commented, "You're quite accomplished for one so young."

Her response was reflexive. "I've felt far older than my years for as long as I can remember. But thank you nonetheless, Sir Anthony."

His gaze landed on her, almost tangible in its intensity. Edith's magic, faint as it was somewhere behind her ribs, hummed contentedly as she relished this undivided attention.

Before he could reply, Edith noticed they'd almost reached the folly at the end of the gravel path. It was an old pillared structure of no real purpose except to serve as a sort of ornament. She admired it wholly and shot him a smile before lightly jogging up the steps, mindful of her satin skirt. She longed to take out her wand and cast _Lumos_ to illuminate the old space.

Her steps brought her to stand beside one of the wide pillars, upon which she leaned and crossed her arms against the breeze that now felt a bit chilly. Her skin prickled a bit at the change in temperature.

"Would you care to take my coat, Lady Edith? I apologise for not realising before that you might catch a chill." He actually didn't wait for her reply before shrugging his black overcoat off and holding it out so she could slip her arms in it and draw the fabric about her. The residual warmth of him lingered in the garment as it wrapped around her like a cocoon. Edith smiled in thanks and felt her magic surge far more strongly than it had in months. It seemed the more contact she had with him was positively related to the increased sensitivity of her magical energy. She intended to ponder the broader implications of that at a later time. For now, she wanted to gaze at the stars as she savoured the warmth of him and his dear company.

As they stood silently in the deserted structure, she was soon at a loss as to what to do but stare at him. Sir Anthony looked far more at ease here in the semi-darkness as opposed to the structured, full course dinner.

"I hope it's not too forward of me to say…but I think we might be quite good friends." She blurted and then immediately regretted in the event that he did not agree. The night was growing colder and she shivered a little as she waited for his reply. She still wore his coat but it had melded to her form now and had adjusted to her own body's temperature. He seemed to be considering her in great detail and this made her a little uneasy.

"Not at all, Lady Edith. I...I, well, find myself agreeing with you." He said no more than that. Probably he questioned why on earth he'd come out here with her when he was supposed to be gauging Mary as a potential life partner. Edith, for her part, felt that she might tell this man almost anything. She knew somehow that he was worthy of trust. The implications of that thought resonated almost in her bones, which scared her as much as it thrilled her.

A moment longer of staring into his wonderfully kind eyes and she knew she'd be done for.

"It's…it's probably quite late. We should," Edith fidgeted slightly with the sleeve of his coat, "we should return before we're noticeably missed."

Sir Anthony agreed, seeming as if he too sensed the peculiar atmosphere that had developed between the two of them.

* * *

The walk back to Downton was full of alternating small talk and comfortable silences. When they drew close to the house, she paused in order to remove his coat and hand it back to him shyly. She felt her cheeks warm at the thought of him possibly enjoying the feel of the coat, as much as she did when he initially offered it to her. Again she scolded herself for appealing to her own vanity but her heart wasn't in it this time.

They re-entered the drawing room separately, in two respectable intervals of time. No one questioned their absences thankfully as everyone was having a bit of a nightcap. Papa engaged Sir Anthony straight away, doing exactly what Edith prophesied he would, recalling fond memories of their glory days. Edith stood alone in the corner of the drawing room when she saw Mary striding in her direction, artfully dodging the other guests who were in the warpath. Edith spotted Sybil chatting with Matthew near the fireplace. Mama had joined Sir Anthony and Papa.

She steeled herself from the coming confrontation.

"Don't think I don't know what you're trying to do." Mary whispered, betraying none of the threat on her face that her words contained.

Edith stopped feeling truly threatened by Mary Crawley's wrath when she mastered both offensive and defensive spells as a fourth year at Hogwarts. Consequently, Edith simply stood her ground since Mary didn't know the true extent of Edith's handicap.

"Oh? What am I doing?" She murmured innocently.

"I'll have you know that if I wanted that old booby, I could have him."

Edith looked visibly affronted on behalf of the man she'd spent the last hour with. Then she regained her composure and smirked at her sister.

"Judging from your behavior towards him at dinner, I'd say you haven't the slightest care for him. You only want him because he showed a bit of interest in someone other than you and you simply can't stand it."

"Is that a challenge?" Mary whispered with a clenched jaw.

"If you like." Edith retorted, one eyebrow raised defiantly.

"Be careful what you ask for, sister." Mary punctuated her words with a glare and left her without another word.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. The dinner guests began to depart around ten thirty, at which time the Crawleys were obligated to bid them farewell in the hall. Edith stood between Mary and Sybil and shook everyone's hand as they left. She drew a quick breath when she bid Anthony Strallan goodbye, as she was able to see the full beauty of his eyes in the light of the hall. He smiled at her before moving to take Mary's outstretched hand. The loss of his gaze saddened Edith. She tried her best not to let it show. When all were gone and it was just the five of them left, Lady Grantham turned to Mary and fixed her with a stern look.

"That was not exactly what I imagined when I asked you to take care of Sir Anthony."

Mary scoffed. "How was I to do that when he was spitting up salty pudding or out in pursuit of our Edith?"

Robert snapped his gaze to his middle daughter, taken aback by the accusation. "Edith, is this true?"

She was caught out, she had to admit. Mary must have seen them through the window on the way back. Despite the ire in both of her parents' visages, she had to restrain herself from smiling giddily at the memory of his eyes, his voice, and his kindness. The feeling of his coat shielding her from the cooling air that she could easily envision as his arms around her.

"He found me as I was about to take a walk through the garden. I didn't force him, he wanted to come with me since you all seem to find him dull as paint."

"Oh, Mary she has a point, don't you think? What did you expect when you cackled into your napkin at his plight?" Sybil said entreatingly. The youngest Crawley daughter actually felt a tad guilty. It was she who noticed Edith had gone and may have directed Sir Anthony toward her in hopes that they would be able to converse freely. Sybil saw how her older sister's face lit up at dinner when Sir Anthony responded to her assessment.

"The next time he comes calling, _you_ will be the one who spends the majority of the time with him." Cora addressed Mary emphatically. "Not _you_ young lady, however grown up you think you are." This time speaking to Edith. Edith felt her ears burn with anger, and then the self-satisfied expression she knew was all over Mary's face.


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

They did not have to wait long until Sir Anthony indeed came calling to Downton.

It was a Saturday afternoon in early June, the summer beginning to creep into the county with its sunny warmth. In the weeks between the last dinner and now, Edith busied herself with exercise both mental and physical. She set up a desk in her bedroom where she answered correspondence and drafted new ideas for research purposes. Her beloved owl Laila, a sleek spotted owl that was indigenous to America, resided in her room. Edith assembled a small perch near her window which she kept open most of the day since the weather was so pleasant.

Laila had been her familiar for seven years, the owl's utmost loyalty beginning from the moment Edith purchased her in Diagon Alley in London. She carried mail for her and delivered it to her friends and mentors in the wizarding world, even bringing back copies of _The Daily Prophet_ for Edith to keep up with events. Laila was free to come and go as she pleased, hunting for food when she needed to. As a safety measure, Edith made sure to maintain a Notice-Me-Not charm over her owl in case some of the local landowners were out shooting.

As for the active portion of her recuperative regimen, Edith had taken to practicing spells that were a little more complex than she'd tried in months. After two routine appointments with healers at St. Mungo's, she was allowed to test the limits of her recovered strength. She went to a secluded spot in the woods that anyone unfamiliar to the area would get lost. She remained alert in case anyone should stumble upon her. Magic was very much akin to a muscle in that if one neglected it, one's ability was likely to decline markedly in a short amount of time. Edith had no intention of losing what little strength she gained back.

She mostly focused on summoning charms like the one she showed Sybil. She tried light objects like leaves on the ground and small fallen branches, then gradually progressed to moderately sized rocks. By the time she rearranged most of the leaves and rocks in the little clearing, she'd broken out in light perspiration. It was getting easier. Bit by bit. Rather like regaining feeling in a long compressed limb. She laughed at the sight of the huge pile of rocks that was the result of her session but the sound hinted of bitter irony rather than amusement, even to her own ears.

Edith was on her way back from one such practice, dressed in loose fitting trousers and a large white shirt she'd transfigured from one of her blouses. Her curls were bound by a turquoise silk scarf and there was a sheen of sweat covering her forehead, her cheeks were flushed with satisfaction. Fresh from this relative success, Edith could begin to believe that perhaps her disability was not forever. She still told herself to be patient. She dared not botch her recovery the same way she originally injured herself.

She strode past and saw just ahead two figures preparing for a ride. William, the stable hand, was assisting the elegant figure of Lady Mary onto Diamond and beside them sat none other than Sir Anthony upon one of their black hunters. Edith shielded her eyes from the sun as she approached. She had no choice but to greet them or risk appearing petulant at his apparent second attempt to court her sister. In the light of day, Edith felt slightly embarrassed about her forwardness the first time they'd met. She shouldn't have monopolised him so thoroughly. Even if she still believed they might suit each other far better—that, sadly, was not for her to decide. Mary must marry first to secure her position and to that end, Mama and Papa were most hopeful to see her settled with a man with a title and estate of his own. As hostile as their relationship was, Edith had no inclination to spoil things unnecessarily. Their little standoff at the last dinner party had cooled between them.

"Good day, Sir Anthony. What a lovely afternoon for a ride! I do hope you enjoy yourself." She called out brightly. She watched his eyes light up as he looked at her, probably also puzzled at her bizarre attire. She cared not for convention at that particular moment however, and waved cheerfully.

"Thank you, Lady Edith. I'm certain I shall. I look forward to tea with the family later upon our return." Sir Anthony's voice was just as sonorous as she remembered. She tried not to look unreasonably pleased at what she perceived to be his eagerness to spend time with her family and by extension, her.

Mary made her presence incontrovertibly known then. She was dressed impeccably in her riding clothes, Diamond appearing slightly anxious to get moving. "Yes, we'll rejoin you all _later._ Goodbye, Edith." She kicked Diamond lightly into a trot, clearly expecting Sir Anthony to follow.

Edith smiled once more before beginning her walk back toward the house when Anthony spoke.

"Were you out for a ride as well, just now?" He held the reins a little too loosely and his horse tugged at the bit, taking advantage of his rider's inattention. Sir Anthony frowned as he re-positioned the reins in his gloved hands. Edith helped him calm the horse by stroking its neck firmly and then running a hand over his velvet soft nose. The horse nickered, leaning into the palm of her hand.

She shook her head in the negative to answer his query. "I was taking a walk. A rather invigorating one, hence the general disarray with which I grace you."

The older gentleman laughed in that manner she was so fond of in her memory and she forgot to feel ashamed of her sweaty hair and wrinkled clothes. She was aware of her magic humming again as it had that night. It pulsed through her, alive and wonderful as her heart started pounding at his proximity. How could he affect her so with only a smile? She admired him in his riding clothes—a dark riding jacket over a white shirt tucked into beige breeches. He looked so distinguished on horseback that she was tempted to hop on with him if only to press against him.

"Sir Anthony!" Mary called from a considerable distance away. She looked at them with ill-concealed impatience.

"I suppose we'll see each other later," Edith said haltingly. "Enjoy your ride!"

Without giving him a chance to reply, Edith made for the house. If she stood there any longer, she was sure she'd give away the strength of her feelings in that particular moment. Because her back was turned, she didn't see the way the gentleman watched her with no small amount of yearning as she moved farther and farther away before he spurred his horse into a trot after Mary.

Mama was in Ripon for some shopping with Sybil. She had no idea where her papa was but she wagered he was in the library. No one really minded where Edith spent her time, which afforded her a surprising amount of leisure time.

In the meantime, she decided she'd change and make herself presentable before tea. She felt no need to rationalize the fact that she took extra care on her hair and skin as she took her time in the bath. Her curls were fresh and arranged nicely afterward. Edith looked objectively at herself in the mirror. After the steam from the hot bath water, her skin was nearly flawless and her cheeks were still glowing from the earlier exercise.

For her outfit, she chose a frock in pale lilac that fluttered as she walked. She was fond of garments that moved, it seemed. Her robes she wore at school and as an apprentice were mostly transfigured into varying types of frocks. Her shoes were sturdy leather heels that grounded the femininity of her dress. Perhaps the most important part of her outfit was where she would store her wand. There was a hidden compartment in the seam of her skirt where she could store it unobtrusively. Edith knew the likelihood of really needing it while she was here was quite low but she felt that having it on her person at all times was essential.

Laila trilled softly from her perch, prompting Edith to look up.

"Oh very well, but isn't it rather early for a hunt?" She moved to stroke the owl's feathers and outstretched her hand. She grew slightly more daring with attempting non-verbal spells and the shielding charm she used to protect her familiar from stray bullets was simple enough.

With a final trill of thanks, Laila took off as soon as her mistress opened the window with another wave of her hand. Edith left it open, knowing that Laila would soon return once she'd finished her meal. An agreeable breeze entered the room as she went to her desk.

Seated comfortably, she pored over _Transfiguration Monthly_. There was a piece on the phenomena of spontaneous transformations into animagi without any conscious attempt and in some cases complete lack of theoretical training. The language of the article was concise and quite fascinating, posing a hypothesis that spontaneous animagus transformations were correlated with greater magical ability across the disciplines. The author was slated to present at a conference in Italy in the autumn.

As she became engrossed in the portion detailing the magical equivalent of the scientific methods employed in the research, Edith detected sounds of Anthony's and Mary's return. She rose from her seat and stood by the window to see.

From her vantage point, Mary was doing her utter best to impress him. He appeared happy to converse with her, if not slightly winded. They must have sustained a canter for a greater distance than he was probably accustomed to.

Edith watched them ride toward the stables where William undoubtedly awaited them. They dismounted halfway and walked the rest. She kept watching as they strolled together, making a very dashing couple indeed. Her dark beauty and his broad form. They looked as though they could be opposite sides of the same coin. Though her heart sank at the idea, Edith wondered if perhaps Mary had dazzled him adequately enough to forget everything about the moment _they_ shared not a few weeks ago.

And if that were truly the case, Edith knew she'd not have the patience to withstand mama's matchmaking if her magic never fully healed. Living as a muggle was such a frighteningly realistic possibility but it made her wish even harder that her magic would just come back. Nothing worth having ever came that easily. She pictured what it would be like to cut all ties to the world she'd been born into as the child of two muggles whose combination of life forces somehow resulted in her being magical.

Then against any rationality, she thought that a life with a foot in both worlds could be possible with someone like Anthony Strallan. She quickly shut her eyes and tried to banish the thought. It was too enticing a prospect for her to have in mind if she was to appear relatively calm at tea.

Laila fluttered back in, the slight commotion she caused jolted Edith out of her contemplation. The owl landed on her desk, head tilted curiously to one side as if to ask what was troubling her.

"I hope you had a nice time, old girl. Lord knows what's to become of me." She laughed wryly at her familiar's remarkably human expression.

* * *

Mary was in top form, Edith found. Cousin Matthew had joined them as well and his attempts to get her attention were in vain. Anthony was seemingly receptive to Mary's words though when he asked her opinions on the troubling developments abroad and the rise of fanatic nationalism, she quickly found ways to steer the subjects to that with which she was familiar, which was clearly not of much interest to him. Despite this, Mary could rely on her looks and wit to get her out of a conversational jam even with someone as intelligent and cultured as Anthony Strallan.

Edith marveled at her sister as she made good on her promise to win in this theoretical battle over Anthony Strallan. It was rather like showing up to a gunfight with a butter knife, on Edith's part. Not that she was actively trying to snatch him away. She bristled inwardly then. What a horrid thing to do, likening Sir Anthony to some kind of object to be bandied about.

She continued to observe him through furtive glances in his direction. He was such a kind hearted, polite man. That was wholly evident in the way he preferred to listen while the others talked, and only offered his opinion when he truly felt the strength of conviction to do so.

Edith sat beside her mother, speaking only when spoken to, as her thoughts from earlier rested heavily in her mind. Mama looked deeply gratified to see Mary going to such lengths to engage Sir Anthony in conversation, Papa much the same. Sybil and Matthew chatted about local politics while all this went on, though Matthew's occasional glances at the oldest Crawley sister were conspicuously full of longing.

Edith was staring at her lap when she realised someone called her name.

"Lady Edith, are you alright?" It was Anthony. His great blue eyes boring into her so keenly that if Edith didn't know any better she might have feared he was a Legilimens.

"Quite alright, thank you."

"You look like you have the weight of the world about your shoulders." He said in response to her non-answer. This invited Robert's and Cora's scrutiny upon her. Edith smoothed a wrinkle in her skirt, avoiding his kindly gaze. She didn't think she could stand his pity or the inevitable dig that would follow as someone would relegate her to the role once more of _poor old Edith._

"Edith frets about a great many things," Mary remarked without a glance in her direction. "Our very own Atlas, if you will."

Anthony looked as though he wanted to address her once more but Edith was tired of the pretence of civility that grew stilted between them.

"More like Sisyphus these days. If you'll all excuse me." She stood and departed from the room.

Matthew and Sir Anthony stood respectfully, and Robert belatedly followed suit. No one saw Anthony Strallan's pained gaze while he watched the middle Crawley daughter stride away. He seemed incapable of halting her progress though he desperately wanted to ask her to stay. None of the other occupants of the room noticed his hands clench in agitation at Edith's absence save for Mary. The dark haired young woman liked a good challenge, and holding this man to her at the expense of her younger sister was too delicious to give up. She knew that Edith had a trump card—her knowledge of what really happened to Mr. Pamuk—but if she threatened to let the truth surface, Mary intended to use Sir Anthony to her advantage.

"Lady Mary, is there anything troubling your sister in particular? I should like to help, if I can." Sir Anthony murmured with concern in his tone. He retook his seat in the armchair adjacent to her, his left hand still clenched unconsciously.

Sybil intervened before Mary could draw a breath to respond.

"She's had rather a lot on her mind of late. It's not like her to confide in many, as she's often so happy to be a willing listener. You mustn't take offense at her need for distance at times, Sir Anthony. We—er…well, we can be a bit much at times."

"It's no small wonder when you consider the type of school she attended for half her life." Mary drawled. Cora avoided her husband's wary eyes. Both parents knew how Mary felt about magic and were loath to raise any sort of curiosity in front of Anthony.

"She means that Edith got used to a very sheltered environment." Said Sybil gracefully. Cora smiled at her youngest with gratitude.

"Ah…I understand better than most actually." The gentleman conceded, though he still appeared concerned.

"Don't worry, Edith always comes 'round." Added Matthew, who also betrayed a sense of agitation at Mary's inexplicable attentiveness the Sir Anthony. Sybil looked between the three of them, her lovely older sister doting on the affable Sir Anthony, and miserable Cousin Matthew who was doing his best to hide it and similarly engage the older man. Her parents looked otherwise oblivious to the brewing unease. Sybil knew she had to do something to remedy this before it imploded.

"I think I'll just go check on her in case she feels unwell." She set her cup and saucer down on the little table and swept past Carson on her way out.

The door of Edith's room was decisively locked. Sybill raised her knuckles to the wooden surface and gave it three firm knocks. No answer.

"Edie, it's Sybil! Are you alright?"

She waited patiently for a few moments. She then detected a little noise from the other side and heard her sister say, "_Alohomora."_

The knob turned and the door widened to reveal Edith looking a little drawn. Her pretty frock looked crumpled as if she'd been lying in bed. Even her hair looked tired, the curls drooping around her face. She looked melancholic. Sybil instinctively thought she knew the reason why.

"May I come in?" She asked gently.

Edith continued to stare silently before she came back to herself and nodded, "Yes, yes of course dear."

Edith lay down on her bed, curled into herself as Sybil sat on the mattress beside her.

"You have feelings for Sir Anthony." She said without any preamble.

Edith jerked slightly in shock as she met her sister's compassionate gaze. How could she know? Was she so transparent? Surely she must appear pathetic and desperate after meeting the man only a handful of times. After all that talk of finding a life partner who was her match in everything and taking her time to decide what she wanted to do. Her magic was returning, yes, in fits and starts. Where did that leave her when confronted by the strength of her emotions? Should she believe in them? What of his regard for her? She had no idea if he even felt remotely the same and she did not know how to find out without giving herself away.

She confided all this in Sybil. Kind-hearted Sybil who'd listen without mocking.

"I think you should get up, straighten out your dress and rejoin us. Be yourself, Edie. He can't take his eyes off you when you're in the room. Mary strings him along because she sees it bothers you but she can't see that she's hurting Cousin Matthew as a result."

"Sybil, I can't go back, I'll look a right fool!"

"That man downstairs would have followed you out if he had a lesser sense of decorum. Believe me, he is as intrigued by you as you are by him."

"Then why does he continue to pursue Mary?" She heard her own inflection rise unbecomingly and winced.

"Maybe he's too polite to shift his preference from Mary to you when mama originally invited him to court Mary. You have to admit he'd come off as a bit of a cad if he took up with you while Mary still gives off the appearance of interest."

She considered Sybil's words with a serious look.

"That could be true. Or he could simply prefer her on further comparison. I can't even begin to think about what it would be like to tell him about my magic," Edith's voice dropped in volume even though she knew no one else could be listening. "Is such a revelation permitted? Wizarding law regarding exposure to muggles is antiquated and harsh. I don't know what sort of integration might be possible if I choose to live as a witch. My…feelings…are one thing but to risk my livelihood and career prospects for a gentleman's hypothetical affections?

"You have valid concerns, Edie. But just because you like the man doesn't mean that you have to marry him at once! Just make him see that you'd suit each other more than he and Mary ever could."

"I try so hard not to hate her, I really do. She makes it so difficult."

Sybil said nothing, just flattened a rebellious red-blonde curl near her sister's ear.

Edith frowned at Sybil. "Anyway, why are you so keen on the idea of him and me? I thought you'd be mortified at my choice."

"Because you look so happy when he's around, and he seems to really like you too, Edie. You deserve a chance at that kind of happiness should other things not pan out."

Those 'other things' did not need to be enumerated. Edith's face crumpled into a mix of gratitude and distress as she rolled over and hugged Sybil tightly. Her younger sister's words gave her the clarity she lacked and she built the resolve to rise off her bed and tidy her appearance again. The both of them descended the staircase and re-entered the sitting room.


	6. Chapter 5

**A/N: This is a quick addition as I'm plodding through my coursework at the moment but I didn't want to go too, too long without an update. Thanks, as always, to all of you who left comments, they really make my day. :)**

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**CHAPTER FIVE**

_Edith frowned at Sybil. "Anyway, why are you so keen on the idea of him and me? I thought you'd be mortified at my choice."_

_"Because you look so happy when he's around, and he seems to really like you too, Edie. You deserve a chance at that kind of happiness should other things not pan out."_

_Those 'other things' did not need to be enumerated. Edith's face crumpled into a mix of gratitude and distress as she rolled over and hugged Sybil tightly. Her younger sister's words gave her the clarity she lacked and she built the resolve to rise off her bed and tidy her appearance again. The both of them descended the staircase and re-entered the sitting room._

As it had only been about twenty minutes since she left them, it was a reasonable amount of time for Edith to convince them that she'd been fighting off the beginning of a migraine but that she was better now. She surveyed the reactions of all the occupants in the room—briefly meeting the eyes of the man who so thoroughly dominated her thoughts. He smiled at her, possibly relieved that she wasn't truly suffering from the purported headache. Edith returned his smile but quickly moved to the piano, since she knew no one would mind a bit of music to fill the room when conversation inevitably petered out. Sybil watched her sister take her place on the piano bench and then surreptitiously glanced at Sir Anthony, whose gaze followed Edith when he knew Mary wasn't looking.

Edith found her fingers were a bit heavy as a result of neglecting practice for so long. She chose a simple song that she'd written a few years prior, with a soothing and melodic chorus that simply repeated itself. This was the easiest thing to do given the circumstances. She subconsciously listened for Sir Anthony's voice, taking comfort in his resonance as he responded to Mary's every declaration.

"I'm very much looking forward to London, if mama and papa will agree with my plan to stay with Aunt Rosamund. There is simply so much more to do in town, this time of year. Perhaps we'll see each other there, Sir Anthony?"

"Oh yes, London is a feast for the senses. I prefer to keep to the country though, what with the projects on the farms and Locksley. I can't get away too often or it would be terribly irresponsible of me."

"Surely you can afford to leave it be for at least a week? Rome wasn't built in a day, after all." Robert added. Edith couldn't believe papa was actually condoning the idea of turning Mary loose and sending this gentleman her way. It was practically an open invitation. She turned to her mother, thinking surely she'd object, but there came no such protest.

"I'm afraid every day counts." Sir Anthony demurred with a hint of convincing regret. Edith wondered if he would take Mary's invitation up if he were not so dedicated to his work. If he found the idea of her sister alone in London as tantalizing as any other less scrupulous gentleman might.

"Well, then we'll just have to make use of our time here." Mary responded loftily. Out of the corner of Edith's eye, she noticed Mary place her hand over Sir Anthony's forearm. In shock at the audacity, Edith missed a few notes and it was enough of a blunder to draw attention. She carried on, determined to ignore what was happening in the other half of the room. How stupid she'd been to believe Sybil. Her younger sister meant well, but clearly, she was no match for Mary's wiles.

"Perhaps if we all went along as well, to accompany Mary. We could all go together every night to a different grand ball or concerts, and spend the days perusing museums… Matthew, you shall come with us too! Of course, if mama and papa allow us, this could be great fun. What do you think, Edith?" Sybil was valiantly trying to salvage the situation.

Edith stopped playing, resting her wrists on the cool ivory keys.

"The museums do sound rather lovely, actually." She conceded quietly. "But we shouldn't like to be in anyone's way."

Mary looked like she was about to agree but Sir Anthony spoke up surprisingly loudly. "I'd recommend the National Gallery, Lady Edith. Your sister is right, if I can indeed find the time to spare for such a trip. The museums are well worth your time during your visit."

"You sound more and more convinced that this is a good idea." Mary had scooted slightly closer to Sir Anthony across the sofa. The man looked a bit conflicted. Edith was about to lift her hands and resume playing but she froze when he next spoke.

"The city holds less and less appeal to me as time goes on. Perhaps it's simply about rediscovering it with the right person?" Sir Anthony mused. Cora looked vaguely pleased, thinking he was referring none too subtly to Mary. Robert nodded and made a remark that Edith didn't register. She'd lifted her eyes and found that Sir Anthony was looking directly at her. In truth it lasted for a split second though to her it felt like time slowed. His face was open—slightly vulnerable even—and she realised there might be some truth in Sybil's assessment of the circumstances. She felt her cheeks warm at the implications of Sir Anthony's words and that he happened to meet her eyes during their delivery.

Later that evening, Edith lay in bed, hoping that he did indeed mean that she was the right person and if so, what she was meant to do about it.


End file.
